


Cock-Blocking For Kicks

by pikasafire



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, F/M, nhl ladies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 17:12:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pikasafire/pseuds/pikasafire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between Brayden and Claude, Sean’s pretty sure she’s never going to get laid again. Written for the <a href="http://happyhockeydays.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://happyhockeydays.livejournal.com/"></a><b>happyhockeydays</b> challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cock-Blocking For Kicks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stickpenalties](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stickpenalties/gifts).



*  
  
Between Brayden and Claude, Sean’s pretty sure she’s never going to get laid again.

They _mean_ well and that’s really the only reason why she hasn’t pushed them both in front of a truck yet.

She knows she’s not the prettiest girl in the city. Hell, she knew what picking hockey as a lifestyle meant. She was never a hugely attractive girl anyway; her long face and big teeth and ginger hair meant that she was never going to win any beauty pageants, and being 6”4 certainly never helped. And now, she’s got a few scars and is missing a few teeth, but whatever. She’s okay with that, there are more important things than looks. Like _hockey_.

Besides, as one of only a few girls in the AHL, she was never short of willing partners - it was easier to fuck a teammate than going out and picking up, and Sean’s always been completely happy with that. For the most part, her teammates have been nice guys, and seriously, going out and finding a normal guy to have sex with and then explaining that she’s gotta go, or they’ve gotta leave because she has morning skate, yeah, it’s easier to just sleep with other hockey players.

Until the Flyers, that is. It’s the NHL now, she’s not going to mess that up for an easy fuck.

“I’m actually starting to forget what sex _is_ ” she whines to Claude, sitting on the couch at Claude and Brayden’s apartment, kicking Claude’s ass at Halo, “Can you forget how to have sex? Because I think I’m coming close to it.”

Claude rolls his eyes, “You’re being dramatic.”

“No. No, I’m not,” she insists. “I want a guy. A normal one. Who doesn’t play hockey. And _you_ keep scaring them away.”

“I do not!” Claude says indignantly. “Danny does. And Brayden! And Scotty. And Jaromir. I’ve _never_ cock-blocked you!”

Sean just stares at him, taking her eyes off the screen to stare at him with her mouth agape.

“What?” Claude demands, when he realises she’s stopped playing. “I’ve only done it, like, once maybe. That’s it.”

“A week, maybe.” Sean mutters, picking up her controller again. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

“Oh God, if you say ‘I don’t know what it’s like to be a girl’ I’m going to beat you to death with this controller.”

“Well you _don’t_.”

Claude sighs, exasperated. “Look. Just date a hockey player. Date Brayden, he’s kinda cute I guess. If you tilt your head and squint a little.”

“Just because I’m a girl in the NHL doesn’t mean I don’t have standards, Claude. We’re not all like you.”

“Oh, low blow.” Claude puts his controller down, “You want someone to fuck or someone to date? Because, like, if you just want to fuck, I’ll take one for the team.”

“Oh, how gracious of you.” Sean says sarcastically.

Claude just shrugs, “What can I say, I’m a giving kinda guy. Now are we going to fuck, or are we going to play Halo?”

Sean’s not sure how to respond to to that so she leans over, punches Claude hard in the thigh, “Shut the fuck up, loser and start the game. I’m going to kick your ass.”

*

Sean spends the next week wanting to kick herself in the face.

Having a crush on a team mate sucks by default. Having a crush on Claude Giroux is more like an extra fucked up kind of horribleness. It’s not that Claude is a terrible guy (though he kinda is. Most of the time, but in that way that means Sean finds him stupidly attractive) but, it’s _Claude_ and … well, ‘ _it’s Claude_ ’ should really be enough of a valid explanation. And he was right there, offering her almost what she wanted, and she said _no_.

It was probably the more sensible option. She’s a rookie, after all. And this isn’t juniors anymore. She can’t really afford to fuck around with her teammates. Getting kicked off the team because she fucked around with their precious star player isn’t really something she wants to happen, and she understands it, she _does_ , but messing around with Claude especially is a terrible idea.

She’ll just have to go out. Surely Brayden can keep Claude distracted long enough for her to pick up someone and get out of there before he notices.

*

She puts her plan, ‘operation get laid’, into action the next time they’re all out, and really, she should have known before she even left the house that there was no way this was going to go her way. At all. Nothing ever does when it comes to Claude.

It starts well, she’s managed to shove Brayden and Claude into a booth at the back, crushed in an unusually busy bar. She darts off with a significant look at Brayden and the muttered excuse of getting a drink.

There’s a guy sitting alone at the bar. He’s nothing special, but she likes his hair and they way he smiles at her as she approaches, so she heads over, leans up against the bar with confidence she doesn’t feel, “Hey.” She says, suddenly feeling a little nervous. For all the time she spends around guys, she never has to be attractive to them. They’re _the guys_ and in situations like this, where she’s supposed to impress? Well, she’s not so good at this part.

“Hey.” The guy says, “Um. Would you like a drink?” He holds out a hand, “I’m Timothy.”

They’re there for about an hour, chatting, and Sean’s feeling pretty positive about this, that this might _actually work_ , there could actually be sex in her future. With another human being, even.

And that’s when, of course, Claude turns up.

“Hey! Seana!” Claude says, wrapping an overly friendly arm around her shoulders.

“Call me that again and I’ll castrate you,” Sean says sweetly, stomping on his foot hard as Claude comes up behind her. “I’m busy. Fuck off.”

To Claude’s credit, he barely winces. “C’mon, we have to go. Brayden’s had too much to drink.”

“ _You_ have to go,” Sean says pointedly. “Take Brayden home. I’ll take a cab back to Danny’s afterwards. I’m busy talking to Timothy here. He’s an accountant.”

Timothy looks uncomfortable, glancing between them. His eyes settle on the way Claude’s fingers are wrapped around her wrist, tugging insistently. “Um, it’s okay.” he says apologetically, “I should probably get going. Work tomorrow and all.”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. Sure, alright.”

“Awesome.” Claude chips in cheerfully, “Now let’s go.” And he pulls her away before she can even ask for Timothy’s number.

“I’m not talking to you,” Sean tells Claude as they follow Brayden outside, Brayden stumbling a little with every unsteady step he takes. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

Claude stops a little too abruptly and Sean almost runs into him as he spins around, staring at her. “What?” Claude demands, incredulously, “What did I do?”

“I was talking in there! To a guy! Who, if it wasn’t for you, I could be _fucking_ right now.”

“Him?” Claude wrinkles his nose, “Really? And it’s not _my_ fault. Blame Brayden and his stupid inability to drink more than, like, two beers without getting wasted.”

“Yes, _him_ you asshole. We can’t all pick supermodels. And you could have taken Brayden on your own!”

“Why not?” Claude says, conveniently ignoring the second part of Sean’s complaint. “Plus, he was an _accountant_. I just saved you from terrible sex.”

“You don’t know that.” Sean points out, “He could have had a kinky side.”

“Yeah, somehow I think he didn’t. The pen sticking out of his top pocket says no.”

“That doesn’t mean _anything_ except that some people aren’t actually as illiterate as you. You know? Forming words? On paper? It’s called writing. Some people are actually capable of it.”

Claude’s sullenly silent for a moment, “I thought you weren’t talking to me.” He mutters under his breath.

Sean rolls her eyes, “Asshole.” She says again, in case he missed it the first dozen times, and pulls ahead of Claude to catch Brayden before he accidentally wanders into traffic.

She manages to stick to the plan of ignoring Claude until they’re back at the apartment. “Make me coffee,” she demands, “I’m going to put Brayden to bed.” She turns her back without waiting for a reply, hauling Brayden across the room to his bedroom. “Fuck, you’re heavy.” Sean says, dropping Brayden none-too-gently onto his bed, face first. She tugs off his shoes without untying the laces and waves a hand at him as she leaves the room. “Sleep tight, or whatever. Don’t puke on the carpet.” Brayden’s already dead to the world before Sean’s even finished talking and she rolls her eyes at him, heads back downstairs to where Claude’s obediently making coffee.

“There. He’s in bed. I don’t know why the fuck you couldn’t do that on your own, but whatever.” She picks up her keys and wallet, “Now, I’m going home. To my empty bed. Thanks for that.” It’s perhaps a little bitchier than she intends, but she’s tired and horny and really fucking annoyed. So, she’s not quite expecting it when Claude grabs her arm as she turns, and kisses her.

She pulls her head away, startled. “Claude? What the fuck?”

“You keep whining about me cock-blocking you.” Claude points out, somewhat reasonably. “I can fix that.”

“What makes you think I’m interested?”

Claude snorts, “Pfft, don’t even. Everyone wants to fuck me.”

There’s about a million things Sean can say to that, but she opens her mouth, ready to tell him to go fuck off (because apparently she really wants to stay celibate until the end of time) and Claude takes it as the invitation it _certainly isn’t_ and kisses her again.

He’s kind of terrible at it, is her first thought, quickly followed by a _what the actual fuck_ and she pulls away, staring at him in disbelief. “Wait.”

Claude looks at her, “What?” he demands, like the thought of her refusing him is ridiculous. It kind of is. But, there’s so many reasons why this is the stupidest idea she’s ever had, and she hesitates, wavering.

“I don’t want this to fuck up the team.” She says. It’s true, but it’s not the whole story.

Claude sighs, long suffering, like the very idea of talking about this is horrifying to him. “It’s just sex. We’re not getting _married_. Why the hell would that fuck up the team? If you’re not weird about it then it won’t do anything other than stop you bitching about the fact you suck at getting laid.” He rolls his eyes. “You’re so fucking weird.”

“Your face is weird.” Sean mutters, feeling uncomfortable. This is far too much like a serious conversation for her liking.

“Shut the fuck up.” Claude says, leaning forward to kiss her again.

She gives in, relaxing into the kiss. Claude might be an annoying fuck, but for some stupid reason, she likes him anyway, and she’s only got a limited amount of willpower. And maybe it’s not quite what she wants, but, really, Claude would be a _terrible_ boyfriend and if she scratches this itch, maybe she can stop _thinking_ about it.

Holy shit, she’s actually going to go through with this.

It’s hard not to compare as Claude kisses her. She knows the girls Claude usually hooks up with. Blonde, big tits, long legs. The kind of fake-tan girl that looks like an oompa-loompa and lost a fight with an make-up kit. It’s been a source of amusement for her since she joined the team, but now, with Claude fumbling with Sean’s baggy t-shirt, groping her small breasts, running his hands over her broad shoulders, she feels self-conscious. She tries to tell herself it’s stupid - Claude’s seen her naked tons of times in the locker room. He touches her all the time, they’re friends after all. But, this is _different_ ; she knew it would be, even in her imagination, it’s different, but she’d never really thought about how uncomfortable it could be.

So she deals with it the same way she deals with being uncomfortable on the ice. Chirping.

“Slower.” Sean demands, pulling away a little “Jesus, has no one ever taught you anything?” She shifts, bringing her hands to his face, “Just. Less tongue, alright.”

“I’ve never had any complaints before.” Claude says, annoyed.

Sean rolls her eyes, “Yeah, well. The girls you pick are stupid. And haven’t realised what a loser you are.” She holds his head steady, “Slowly. Less tongue. Less slobber. Got it?”

If someone had told her that she’d go out to pick up and end up fucking around with Claude, she probably would have laughed, but he’s pushing his hands up the back of her shirt, back down to grope at her ass and, yeah, he’s picking up the kissing thing. She pulls away far enough to pull her shirt over her head, tugs at Claude’s until he takes his off as well and they’re both half naked in the kitchen, coffee long forgotten.

“Your room.” She murmurs. Claude makes a little noise of agreement, but doesn’t move, standing on his toes to kiss her again. “Come on. We’ll freak Brayden out if he wakes up.” She pulls him with her, uncoordinated stumbling to Claude’s bedroom at the end of the hall, kicking the door closed behind them.

“Sit down,” Claude says, pushing her onto the bed. “Jesus fucking Christ, you’re tall.” He kneels over her, fingers moving restlessly over her skin as he leans down to kiss her. They stay like that for a while, making out lazily, and Sean’s stomach tightens. This isn’t what she signed up for, and this is heading into dangerous territory. It’s just sex with a friend. That’s all.

“Are we going to fuck, or not?”

Claude rolls his eyes, “Alright. Not big on the foreplay. Got it.” He grins at her to take the sting out of his words and sits back on his heels to unbutton his jeans, “If that’s what you want.”

She can’t think of a smart ass remark, watching as Claude shuffles off the bed to kick off his jeans. It’s not like Sean hasn’t seen him naked before. It’s kind of an occupational hazard of sharing a locker room, but, like this, she can _look_.

“Like what you see?” Claude says with a shit eating grin, staring over at her.

Sean shrugs, propping herself up on her hands, “I guess I could do worse. Ovechkin for instance. But I could probably do better too. Lundqvist maybe.” It would be suicide to admit she finds Claude attractive. She’s pretty sure she would never hear the end of it from _anyone_ if that got out.

Claude doesn’t really say anything to that, moving closer and reaching out, nimble fingers that unhook her sports bra with ease of practice before sliding down her stomach, undoing her jeans. He pushes her backwards, hands on the bed on either side of her head, and kissing her, “Take your pants off.” It’s hard to wriggle out of them with Claude still sprawled on top of her, but she manages, left in her underwear, Claude’s skin hot against hers and she really doesn’t want to think about how much this whole situation is turning her on.

He leans down to kiss her again and she pushes at his shoulders, getting her demands across without words.

He laughs, resisting. “You’re so fucking bossy. You’re not this bossy on the ice.”

“Well it’s a good thing we’re not _on_ the ice, isn’t it. That said, if I can push Malkin around, I can push you around.”

Claude screws up his face in disgust, “Please don’t talk about Malkin when we’re naked.”

“You’d prefer I talked about Crosby instead? I know you have a thing for him.”

“How about you just shut up? That’s an awesome idea.”

“Make me.” It’s a childish challenge, half nerves, half mocking, but Claude just grins down at her before sliding down her body, hooking his fingers in the sides of her boylegs as he goes, dragging them down her legs and dropping them on the floor, pushing her knees apart to kneel between her spread legs.

“Like this?” Claude asks, voice murmured as he presses his mouth to the soft skin of her inner thigh, gentle, teasing bites.

Sean grits her teeth. She’s not going to beg. Or even say please. Not to Claude. “Higher.”

He bites at the curve of her hip. “Here?”

She rolls her eyes, “I will knee you in the face, Giroux, don’t think I won’t.”

He laughs, breath hot against her skin, curling his fingers around her hips. “Well, if you’re going to resort to violence.” And before Sean can actually follow through with her threat, Claude’s lowered his head, licking into her, his tongue circling before he latches his mouth around her clit and sucks.

She gasps, clenches her hands in his hair, tugging hard enough that it’s probably painful. She doesn’t much care. It’s been so fucking _long_. He loses the rhythm and she pulls his hair, directing his mouth where she wants it. “C’mon,” she says, voice high and strung out. “Just up a little. C’mon. Harder.” She lets her head fall back, tightens her muscles to stop her hips from bucking, “ _Fuck_ , Yeah. There. Keep doing that.”

He slides a hand up her thigh, brushes the curls with the tips of his fingers before pressing two of them into her, up and in and she can’t help the way her hips jerk against the pressure, the choked little noise she makes in the back of her throat. She looks down, the mess of his hair, her hands tightly curled in the strands and he looks up at her, eyes stupidly blue, and yeah, maybe she’s in this deeper than she should be.

Her thighs tremble, and he shifts, holding her open with his free hand, and she can feel the tension curling in her stomach, the tensing of her muscles, and she closes her eyes, losing herself in the rhythm of his mouth and fingers. He’s not great at it, keeps losing the pressure, but it’s enough for her, her muscles tightening around his fingers rhythmically, can feel her hips involuntarily shoving toward his mouth.

So fucking close.

She tugs his hair a little, a warning or notice or, fuck, Sean doesn’t even know, but Claude seems to get the message, sucking harder, moving his fingers faster and she’s practically writhing beneath his hands, hips shoving forward once, twice before she comes, clenching down, her body shaking hard, aftershocks pulsing around his fingers.

A deep breath, body shaking a little with aftershocks and she relaxes into the sheets, throws an arm over her eyes. The bed dips as Claude crawls his way back up the bed, wet mouth on hers, and Sean can taste herself in the kiss. It’s weird and more than a little hot.

She opens her eyes, Claude looking at her expectantly. “Can I?” he asks, his face flushed red, hair a mess. He looks ridiculous and really fucking hot and Sean’s pretty sure she’s in much deeper than she should be.

“Yeah.” Her voice is unsteady, out of breath and she can feel the prickle of sweat on her face, knows she must be bright red. She watches as Claude fumbles with the top drawer of his nightstand, pulling out a condom and swearing quietly under his breath as he fights with the packaging, finally managing to get it undone and on.

He braces himself over her, “Okay?” He asks, as though she will have changed her mind in the last minute.

“Waiting for an engraved invitation?” He grins at her, all teeth, settling between her legs, pressing forward and Sean reaches down, grabbing his ass, urging him forward, “Come _on_.”

It’s been a long time since she’s been fucked. She’s still tense from her orgasm, and he pushes in slowly, pressing his face to her neck, “ _Fuck_ ,” he breathes against her skin. Sean brings her hands up, runs her fingers down his back, can feel the way the muscles twitch, trembling slightly. It feels good, the pressure of something inside her, the press of hot skin against hers, she closes her eyes, turns her head to kiss him, enjoying the sensations.

A shift of her hips and she’s moving with him, finding a rhythm, pressing their mouths together for deep, wet kisses.

She works a hand between them, fingering her own clit. Claude sucks in a shuddery breath, drops his head to her shoulder, “Fuck.” he says, his movements jerkier, fingers tightening on the sheets by her head. “Jesus, please tell me you’re close.”

A breathy laugh, and she arches against him, “A gentleman in bed, huh? Never would have guessed.”

“I won’t be in about two minutes.” Claude says, voice strained and breathless. He grits his teeth, slows his thrusts. “C’mon.”

He’s shaking with the effort of holding back, and Sean finds that so much hotter than she should, rubbing her fingers over the hard nub of her clit, pressing forward to kiss him hard, wet and dirty, licking at his mouth, biting at his lips and it’s only a minute before she comes apart, shaking and clenching around him.

Claude shudders above her, that’s all he needs, shoving into her faster and harder and she arches against him, meeting his thrusts, groaning into her neck as he comes, shaking through his orgasm.

He’s silent for a moment, breathing hard against her skin. He lifts his head, kisses her once, and rolls to the side, tying the condom off and dropping it over the side of the bed before flopping back down. “Jesus. It’s been a while.”

Sean snorts, too fucked out and lazy to do anything else, “Liar. You pick up, like, three different girls a week.” She’s only a little embarrassed at how hoarse her voice is.

“No, I don’t,” Claude protests sleepily. “It’s like one every few weeks.”

“Bullshit.”

He ignores her, “Wasn’t that easier than picking up?” He asks, shifting and slinging an arm low over her hips, voice muffled by the pillows.

She pulls her arm away from her eyes and twists to stare at him. “No. Not really.”

He frowns at her, brows drawn together, looking seriously like he’s on the verge of pouting.

“Well, it wasn’t.” She insists. “If you guys would just stop fucking _cock-blocking me_ , I’m sure it’d be much easier.”

“But since we _do_ keep cock-blocking, this is easier, right?”

Sean rolls her eyes. “Yeah. I guess.”

Claude props himself up on an elbow, sliding his fingers across her stomach, “So, to save time, we could maybe... do this again?” It’s a little hesitant, unsure, and it throws her, so used to Claude being brash and rude and demanding what he wants.

“Again?”

“Yeah. You know. Like... messing around.”

Sean punches him in the shoulder. “Yeah, alright.” she says, overly casual, “You take direction well. I can probably teach you a few things.” But the smile on her face betrays her.

*

END


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